


And I would be the one to hold you down

by RipVanWinkle



Series: Just close your eyes [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Hinted Galra Keith, Implied Sexual Content, Incubus Lance, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Jealous Keith (Voltron), Keith is so in love, Langst, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Multi, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Protective Keith (Voltron), Shapeshifter Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipVanWinkle/pseuds/RipVanWinkle
Summary: "C'mon, sweetheart, tell me who you want me to be.""You, Lance. I want you to be you."All his life Lance has been what everyone else wants him to be. Then comes along the wonderful boy who gives him a choice in the matter.Sad Incubus Lance AU.





	And I would be the one to hold you down

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a spicy [sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16217117).

His first fuck, like many others', barely lasted longer than ten minutes with some girl whose face is nothing but a blur now. 

What Lance does remember, however, is the feel of her soggy tongue twining with his, her taste of daddy issues and low self esteem, her cherry sex fragrance cutting through the stink of her cigarette. She was soft and vulnerable under his hands but so was he, confused by her squirms and gasps, stuck somewhere between aroused and terrified. But he needed the urge so he had brought it to his mouth, whispered in her ear, "Who makes you wet?"

Perhaps not the most romantic line but he was a virgin, and he was hungry, and she was sad and it was making her essence taste sour. She whimpered as he traced her lips, disoriented in the grasp of their foggy dreamscape reality, and bit out a name. Without ceremony he shifted, morphed into the man of her dreams thoughtlessly in a shared breath between them. She moaned then when he entered her, crying out a name that wasn't his as he fed upon her. 

It didn't matter. She was satisfied, momentarily, and his hunger sated, also momentarily. They parted with a teasing, secretive kiss, like two kids giggling over a mischievous plot, and never saw each other again. 

It was good that way. Lance liked it that way. He carried on like this for many years.

 

* * *

 

Monsters don't discriminate so it wasn't long before he found himself in bed with a troubled young man. Lance had never been fucked before but he let it happen then because it was new and exciting and the soaring pleasure his partner felt energized him for many weeks afterwards. He murmured into the man's shoulder every single dirty thing he could imagine, even if that number was pathetically small, fluctuating his vocal cords until the dick inside him gave a little jump. _Bingo!_  

Lance kept his hands above his head, clutched in the pillow by his ears, moaned and cried in the same voice his partner lusted for. His tawny brown hair lightened to a blond, his nose thickened, and he ate from the man's youth with different set of teeth. 

He felt like he was doing a service, a 'one good deed a day' type of thing. Let them fuck their unrequited loves and let him reap the benefits of their passion. Broken hearts are a delicacy, after all.

The man had grown tired but Lance wasn't full yet. He flipped them over and rode until the sun came up, not noticing until it was too late that he might have taken more than prescribed. His mother would be so angry with him.

Lance had pressed his dry lips to the man's loose brow when he left him in that motel room. It felt wrong to just leave without some form of goodbye.

 

* * *

 

It was a never ending cycle, Lance's sexual escapades. Find some despondent lowlife on the edge, seduce them with a drink or a pill or a needle and bat those pretty eyes (let them become kaleidoscopic, they'll see what they like eventually), lead them away to wherever they can be alone. Sometimes he has only one partner, other times many. Once or twice, a whole room! He always pleased and _was_ pleased, and it was fun to see all the new forms he could take. The Garrison made it a bit harder to go out and hunt like normal so he was crankier then without the source. He found solace in the quirky Pidge and the lovable Hunk, two whom he would never even dream of feasting upon. In hushed whispers one night, when he felt his lowest from hunger, he opened to his worried friends. 

They helped him sneak out, the fantastic deviants, helped him get his fix and didn't demand he change like everyone else. It felt good, to be accepted for himself. It felt wonderfully different. A new hunger birthed within him then. _How would it be_ , he wondered, _if I never had to change?_ Even so, he continued to conform to his partners' desires. It was how he ate best so why disturb that? Emotions didn't belong in fucking anyways.

While he was thankful, their help still wasn't enough to keep him from his furious longing. It twisted his words and made him cruel at times, forced him to push them away when at his worst. If anyone outside their little lovely circle noticed they didn't bother to care.

 

* * *

 

_How is he so blank?_

Lance met a guy one day in class, the type of guy he would usually bring home and fuck senseless. Angry at the world, angry at himself, full of self-doubt and apathy; a delicious brew for the perfect midnight snack. And yet, even with the stranger's dark eyes and crude snarl, Lance could taste nothing. When Lance approached him, learned his name  _(Keith Kogane)_ , went through the motions flawlessly...nothing. Others flocked to Lance, begged him to fuck them, touched themselves at night to thought of his parted thighs and wicked tongue, but Keith...didn't.

He didn't react at all.

And Lance didn't like that, not one bit.

Thus his petty, one-sided rivalry began. Girls thirsted after Keith even more so than Lance and it drove him insane. Keith became top pilot while Lance barely got in and it made Lance tear his hair out. Keith beat Lance's simulator score every  _fucking_ time and Lance wanted to scream from the rooftops. For the first time Lance wanted to get another's attention as  _himself,_ but he never thought too hard on that information. Sluts shouldn't need to think too much.

As a big ' _fuck you,'_ Takashi Shirogane disappeared and shortly thereafter, so did Keith.

Like always, Lance didn't know what to do except carry on as normal and grab at whatever dinner he could find and lose himself into a labyrinth of gaping mouths and digging fingernails in his back. It was good, it was  _normal,_  but that nagging thought nibbled in the back of his mind. 

_What would my monster look like?_

Every girl and every guy afterwards looked as unlike Keith Kogane as possible. He stuck to blondes and preps and screamers, ignored the ever aching hole in his stomach and worried the shit out of Hunk and Pidge. 

"Who cares?" He told them, "Who cares about just another whore? Leave me alone."

They embraced him but there was nothing sexy about it. Huh. What a shame. He let them pry his ribs open and gently cut the sadness out, like cancer, and it was nice to be the comforted instead of the comforter. 

_I love you._

He didn't have to tell them. They already knew.

 

* * *

 

If Lance had thought getting tail in the Garrison was hard, man oh man, welcome to fucking  _space,_ buster. He was more erratic and spastic than ever, unable to concentrate and keep his moods from swinging like a pendulum. Pidge and Hunk fretted over him, pleaded for him to tell the team what he was so that he could just get some  _help_ dammit! But like hell was he going to ask any of  _them_ to be his personal fuck toy. He had too much dignity. Besides, occasionally he sneaked off with a feisty alien babe or two for a satisfying roll through the mud, delightfully sated even if it did cost the respect of his teammates. 

Like now, for instance. He's limping as he leaves Blue, a pleased smirk across his flushed cheeks, and it draws attention. Allura scoffs incredulously and rolls her beautiful pink eyes, murmuring something in Altean that he's sure isn't very nice. Shiro just eyes him in disappointment, a blow to Lance's chest that almost chases away the pleasurable afterglow-  _almost._  

Hunk and Pidge exchange twin looks thick with concern. He pointedly ignores them. They'll lecture him later, no need to encourage them now.

And, of course, there's the bane of his existence. Keith's teeth are clenched and bared like a dog's, eyes resentful typhoons of mauve fury. Lance is surprised the helmet in his hands hasn't cracked underneath the pressure of his strangling palms. He watches Lance's stuttered stride and bruised lips like a hawk, becoming more and more irate by every step Lance takes. 

Lance shoots him a wink, wiggles his hips just so to mock seduction, and grins in deviance, "Take a picture, it'll-"

Keith cuts him off with a brutally cold "You done whoring yourself out yet?"

There's a chorus of gasps and Lance almost trips over his own feet, breath catching in his hickied throat. He stares at the ground with wide eyes, heart spluttering to a near stop in his chest. 

"Keith!" Shiro chastises, utterly surprised by his prodigy's outburst. 

And Lance almost says it. He almost reveals his nature in front of  _all_ of them, almost destroys their faith and trust in him permanently, almost brands himself as the monster he is. He wants to scream, watch Keith's ego fall as he realizes Lance can't  _control_ what he is. 

_I never wanted this. I didn't ask for this. I don't want this._

Lance bites his bottom lip, ignoring the pain of the cut already there, and whips around to face Keith. The other boy stiffens at the rage in Lance's eyes, yes, but cracks under the hurt just beneath. His tone is cruel as he hisses, "Oh no, Shiro, let him speak. Whore, huh?" He steps into Keith's space, "Well at least I can get laid, asshole. Who would _ever_ want to fuck someone as sad, lonely, and  _pathetic_ as you? _I'm_ the whore and I wouldn't even touch you with a ten foot pole."

Lance stomps away before he can begin to regret his words, forcing himself to stew in the anger Keith has instilled in him. 

 

* * *

 

Keith came to his room to apologize later that night. He explains that he's actually worried about Lance, in his weird emo way. And like a complete fool Lance completely forgives him without circumstance. Anything to see that grateful smile light up Keith's face. 

Keith asks if there's anything he can do for Lance before he leaves. Lance wants to tell him but not out of spite this time. It's not love he feels when he looks at Keith's open, caring expression, but it's the closest he's ever gotten to it. 

"A glass of water." He says instead with a playful smile, lounging across his bed in a stretch. He misses the heated drag of Keith's eyes down his toned body, the way the other boy gulps discreetly and adverts his gaze in shame. 

"Sure."

 

 

Lance is already asleep by the time Keith returns with the water. He sets it on the nightstand beside the slumbering boy's bed and hovers beside him. 

_What are you searching for, Lance?_

 

* * *

 

"Please, Lance." Pidge murmurs into his arm, face buried there to hide the tears gathering in her pretty hazel eyes, "Just tell them. Allura and Shiro are starting to lose trust in you. They know we're hiding something and they think it's _way_ worse than it actually is."

Hunk presses an antiseptic to an open wound on Lance's collarbone, a trophy of his most recent conquest. The alien was into a bit of the rougher stuff but Lance gave into it easy enough, changing his body and letting his mind concentrate on the bliss of his partner's sexual gratification rather than the tearing pain in his bones. Black and blue lines his thighs where they lay open and bandaged, treated with stinging salves meant to seal the cuts and bites quicker. Luckily the alien didn't have the parts needed for penetrative sex (how strange his intergalactic partners can be) so his asshole remained intact. Didn't stop his partner from bruising his ass cheeks to all hell from pinching and swats, however. 

Lance tsks, "Don't worry about it. It ain't any of their damn business."

Pidge tightens her grip, "Lance...this isn't right. Sex shouldn't...you shouldn't _look_ like this after sex." She gestures to his swollen left eye and split lip in frustration.

Shrugging, Lance jokes, "Different strokes for different folks, Pigeon. You wouldn't _believe_ how hard this guy got off! I won't have to eat for weeks." That's right, focus on that. On the bright side. Not the aching in his limbs or the way he imagined a familiar set of furious violet eyes when he gave his body over. 

"You're not a whore." Hunk mutters and Lance blinks in surprise at him. His best friend glares hotly, eyes glassy with unshed tears, "You think you are but you're _not._ No one thinks you are. We're all  _worried,_ Lance. Look at you!" Hunk suddenly barks, launching to his feet to tower over Lance. His face is pinched in anger, jaw set and fists clenched so hard they shake, "You were _raped_ _,_ Lance!"

Lance can't stand that word or the consequences it harbors so he, too, stands, getting in Hunk's face and snarling, "I wasn't! Don't you  _dare_ say that! I _wanted_ it! I _always want it!_ "

"You don't want it! You just want to forget!" Hunk yells, throwing his bottle of space Neosporin onto the nearby table with a crash, "Tell them! Or _I_ will! We can't keep covering for you! I can't stand it- I can't  _stand_ how people think of you!"

Lance falters at the teardrops trailing down his best friend's face.  _Look at you now, big boy, making the only ones who understand you, who can stand you for longer than a night, cry. Do you feel proud? Do you feel strong? I bet you do._

Pidge clasps Lance's hand in her's and Hunk's in her other one, features twisted in sorrow, "Lance."

He shakily looks to her.

"Please."

He takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back with a wince, and relents because he is weak, "Fine."

He is so, so, so very weak. 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith is a wild beast when he sees Lance's condition, foaming at his fanged mouth and snarling irate threats. It takes pretty crystal tears and a desperate plea,  _"please don't go, please stay with me,"_   to keep him from getting in his lion and tracking Lance's latest meal down. 

It also takes Lance's flinch, his panicked wobbly gaze, to calm Keith enough to listen to reason. Lance had never seen Keith so furious, not even when their fights got especially nasty. When the boy had yelled, raised his fist not to hit him but only to express his own anger, Lance cowered like a beaten dog. 

Keith abruptly stopped screaming, stopped his aggressive pacing. He stared, in almost devastation, at his close friend. 

"Please don't yell." Lance whispered, wiped at his wet face with a bruised hand. He shivered and shook, opened his body in hopes of some comfort.

Keith did not hesitate, for once in his life understood what Lance wanted, what he needed. He wrapped Lance within his caging, grounding arms, pressed their chests so tightly close that Lance thought they might combine into one entity. How nice that would be, to be one with someone who cares as deeply, as passionately, as Keith.

"I have something I need to tell you, Keith. But you've got to promise not to hate me."

 

* * *

 

It's become quiet after his secret is revealed. Allura and Coran didn't understand why he didn't say anything earlier and Lance was in no real mood to explain. Hunk took over then, describing the intricacies of human societies and customs and  _shame_ _,_ all the while Lance stared into his bowl of space goo listlessly.

Keith hadn't spoken throughout it, brow furrowed in thought. Lance could feel his gaze, heavy and questioning, on the side of his face every now and again, but not once did either initiate the inevitable conversation. 

Shiro clapped Lance on the shoulder in solidarity, assuring Lance that in no way did this make him  _inferior_ or  _slutty_ or  _disreputable_. Lance flashed him a thankful smile, made eye contact with Keith by accident, and quickly lowered his head once more. 

Coran grows interested in Lance's life, asking him all sorts of questions in probably the most inopportune times. Like now, at dinner, for example.

"So, my boy," Coran begins with a friendly smile and Lance just doesn't have it in him to despise the alien, "incubi are predators, are they not?"

Lance shrugs noncommittally, "I dunno. I guess."

"How do you draw in prey?" Lance really hates it that Coran calls it that but can't really think of any other way to describe it either so he keeps his mouth shut. Coran continues, "Through seduction tactics? You seem quite bland now!"

Used to Coran's tactless comments, Lance shrugs again, "I can shapeshift. Into whatever it is that wets my, uh, 'prey's' whistle."

Beside him Keith flinches. Lance glances at him in confusion only to find him staring in rapt attention. Coran drags his attention back into his grasp, "What?!"

"Lance!" Shiro exclaims, "You can shapeshift into anything?"

Shaking his head, Lance explains, "No. Not anything. Just whatever will draw the most pleasure from my partner. Watch." He takes a deep breath and concentrates. It's been awhile since he's allowed himself to feel the sexual desires of his teammates. Quite awkward it is, as one can imagine, to instinctively know the darkest fantasies of his closest friends. Ignoring all but his leader's, he feels his skin twitch as it changes. He shuts his eyes tight, lengthening hair tickling the sides of his ears and the nape of his neck. It grows and grows until he can feel it pooling around his lower back. A woman then. Figures the remarkable man was straight. His ears tingle strangely, straining to pick up the team's gasps and Shiro's choked chicken yelp. 

When Lance opens his eyes he finds everyone staring in amazement at him, even Hunk and Pidge who have seen him do this countless times before. He smiles with soft, plump lips and quips, "I sure hope I'm a hottie."

Oh.

He recognizes that accent.

Shiro is, uh, mortified to say the least. Allura's face is bright in embarrassment, a hand on her chest and mouth agape as she stares at her doppelganger.  

Lance turns to look at Keith to see a mixture of amusement and bewilderment on his handsome features. Lance grins with Allura's pearly white teeth and giggles girlishly, "Well! Ain't this a surprise!"

Keith huffs a laugh and shakes his head, covering his face in second-hand embarrassment for his brother, "Jesus, Lance, always causing trouble, aren't you?"

Lance laughs Allura's laugh and the princess herself coughs, "Uh, well, uh, go-good feat of shifting there. Uhm, meeting dismissed."

As Allura leaves in quite the hurry, Shiro hot on her heels to explain himself after shooting a dirty look Lance's way, Lance allows himself to fade back into his usual form. He chuckles, "Man, Shiro's gonna kill me later."

 

* * *

 

"Lance? Can I ask you something?"

Lance glances out of the corner of his eye at Keith, heart pumping fast at the sight of him on his side staring at Lance with curiosity burning bright in his intensive gaze. The two are lying on the cold floor of the conservatory, have since an hour back when Lance stumbled upon Keith's contemplative form sprawled out like a great big starfish. 

"Sure, buddy, ask away."

"Do you actually want to have sex with those people?"

His breath hitches in his throat. Ha! Typical Keith, as blunt and straightforward as ever, even at the expense of others. Lance nibbles on his lips, much like he would love Keith to do, and offers a jerky shrug, "Sure, I mean, I get off, don't I? And I have to, to survive."

"Yeah, I get that," Keith presses, "but do you _really_ want to sleep with them?"

"Why does it matter?"

With a snarling grunt, Keith lifts up onto his elbows to lean over into Lance's line of vision. His mouth is tugged into a dark scowl that Lance instantly wants to kiss away, brows furrowed in such a way that has Lance desiring to massage them loose. Is it getting to be that time again, the time to hunt? It must be, with thoughts like these in his head. 

"It _matters,_ idiot, because your feelings matter. Do you want to sleep with them or not?!"

"No." Immediately, Lance answers. "Maybe the first girl, maybe a guy or two somewhere down the line, but no."

"The don't. Don't fuck them."

Lance sighs. Of course Keith doesn't understand. His one track mind can only follow along so closely, it seems. Lance's smile is without humor, "Keith, buddy, remember? Incubus? Kind of _have_ to have sex on the reg?"

Keith grows frustrated, as if Lance isn't understanding what he's trying to get across, "Don't fuck people you don't want to fuck!"

"It isn't that simple."

"How so?!"

"Because, okay? I have to feed on sexual energy and it's not like anyone who knows me wants to sleep with me-"

"I do."

Lance sucks his spit down the wrong tube and coughs into his hand, cheeks and body hot. His stomachs coils in anticipation at even the prospect of sleeping with Keith, his dick twitching in interest against his pleas for it not to. He stares googly eyed at Keith, "Uh-wanna run that by me again, b-buddy?"

Keith's hand moves to palm the floor beside Lance's head, his torso moving to completely encompass Lance's quivering own. His gaze burns hot, hotter than the nights spent in lustful embraces and smoggy love dens; and strong, too, stronger than the beating of Lance's heart against the confines of his rib cage and stronger than his sudden pleading thirst for the spiciness he can suddenly taste on the tip on his tongue. 

The knowledge hits him like a freight train. Keith  _likes_ hovering over top of Lance. He  _likes_ the way Lance's body curves and leans invitingly towards him. Lance can sense them, Keith's hopes, Keith's fantasies. He sees himself, features contorted in bliss, writhing in silken bed sheets while Keith ravages his sweaty body with a devious tongue and flashing fangs. He sees himself with his legs around Keith's thin waist, lifted and pinned to a wall, begging for the sweet release Keith so cruelly keeps from him. 

He sees himself, beaming with happiness, holding Keith's calloused hand in his own as he chatters carelessly away about anything on his mind. He feels a swell of affection, so much greater, so much more filling, than sex before ever was.

"I said, I do. I want to sleep with you. I want to be with you." And Jesus, Keith is so much braver than Lance ever could be. He is solid, determined, and his stare keeps Lance a boneless heap on the ground, unable to move or even think.

But Lance is scared, he will always be too scared. He's a coward, as they all well know by now. He forces a seductive smirk to dominate his shock,  _his fear,_  and he lifts a trembling hand to stroke Keith's jawline. Lust is good, lust is safe. He can work with that, can escape his feelings using it. 

"Should've known you couldn't resist my charms for long." Lance murmurs teasingly, fingers tracing from Keith's high cheekbones to his plump lips and back again.

Quick as a whip, Keith snags Lance's wandering hand. He clasps it in place by Lance's face, grip so tight it's sure to leave bruises because he's some kind of  _animal_ it seems. "Don't do that."

"Do what, baby?"

"Ignore this. That's what you do, you ignore it until the problem gets so bad that you disappear for nights on end and come back so beat up we consider putting you in the pods." Lance doesn't miss the dark jealousy lurking like an ugly viper underneath those fiery violet eyes. 

Lance's teeth flash, "Oh, I see. _You_ want to be the one who messes me up like that, right? You want to fuck me 'till I break? 'Till I cry?" He's half hard in his jeans now, his dick rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of his briefs.  _Fuck, this is bad._

It's just a little playful mockery, nothing serious, but Keith's desire burns hotter than ever. His fingers tighten around Lance's brittle wrist, he lowers his head to question huskily, "Yeah? And what if I do?"

 _Didn't think you'd make it this far, honestly._ Lance can no longer keep up eye contact with him, fluttering his lids in such a way that he hopes is cutely coy. He bites his tongue, almost afraid of what he might blurt out if he loosens his jaw. "Y-you don't."

At Lance's shaky response, Keith continues in the same rough tone, like he was being fucked already, "Oh, but I _do_ , I want to. Wanna make you cry, make you beg," fuck, Lance knows, he can see it all a swirl in Keith's dirtiest daydreams, "watch you squirm and hear you moan. I wanna mark you up, make sure every bruise, every scratch, is _mine._ " 

Lance shivers at the possession there, at the barely concealed desperation. He can only answer with a pathetic whimper, brain scrambling for some purchase whilst tumbling down the hill Keith has pushed him down. 

"You're beautiful. I want every part of you."

No, no, please, tell him what to shift to, tell him about your dream lover's eyes, shape, sound. Please, anything but his  _own._

"I want to be the only one to satisfy you."

Lust is safe, bring that back in, drown Keith in it, distract him with another man's hands, another woman's giggly moans.

"I _am_ the only one that can satisfy you."

But Lance can't shift. There's nothing  _to_ shift to. He's stuck, stuck in this broken and used body, put up on display for the only guy he actually cares about to poke and prod at. Lance's gaze flickers back to Keith's, heart almost stopping at the craving that resides there, enough to rival his own. His lips pull into a fearful, unstable smile, teetering between the lines of terror and infatuation, "C'mon, sweetheart, tell me who you want me to be."

The smirk on Keith's handsome features softens to a mysterious quirk, a soft line Lance could lose himself in, "You, Lance. I want you to be you."

 

* * *

 

Lance hasn't shifted in a long, long time. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This thought randomly came to me one day because why not write yet another incubus Lance AU? I hope my angsty take on it is a breath of fresh air.


End file.
